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Today’s new word:

zeugma n.Grammar, Rhetoric. the use of a word to modify or govern two or more words when it is appropriate to only one of them or is appropriate to each but in a different way, as in to wage war and peace or On his fishing trip, he caught three trout and a cold.

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Again,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem.

My poem

Hagridden Again

In search of new knowledge,
my perpetual motion,
ambushed by yapok.
A disconcerting combination
of water and land,
of fingered and webbed,
of cute and horrifying.

I contemplate forewarning.
But I am not a gate keeper.
Who am I to impair the stun
of this captivating truth?
Once known, yapoks cannot be unknown,
once seen not unseen,
once imagined, forever a menacing possibility.

I am bewitched by potential,
spellbound by the shiny new tidbits of discovery,
and plunge into inquiry enchanted.
I contemplate a flustering illustration
of its thick tail tightly constricting a branch,
a bewildered bird in its mouth.
I ponder another unsettling engraving
in which it crawls ashore with a discombobulated fish.

In my image it circles you as you work your stoke
like a Labrador preparing a rescue.
In my depiction it perches on your shoulder;
its tail crawls into a coil on your arm;
it gorges on your harrowed head.

Today I am aware of the yapok,
surprised by its revelation,
alarmed by swimming teeth and tails,
mesmerized by adaptation.
I am under the spell of spelling.
Five letters ordered to an unexpected meaning,
leaving me fazed.

Today’s new word:

“Remix” a Shakespearean sonnet. Here’s all of Shakespeare’s sonnets. You can pick a line you like and use it as the genesis for a new poem. Or make a “word bank” out of a sonnet, and try to build a new poem using the same words (or mostly the same words) as are in the poem.

For today’s prompt, pick a direction, make that the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. There are so many directions: north, south, up, down, left, right, over, under, etc. But there are also more specific directions like “Across the Way,” “Through the Woods,” and “Beyond the Clearing.” Or give directions like “Clean Your Room,” “Tie Your Shoes,” or “Get Over Here.”

My poem

Inward and Outward

Plastic-coated self untouched by any
precious xenium though unprovident
impenetrable walls keep out many
voluptuous luxury evident
voice lost in fear and fires of hate
bodies dance vinyl and satin conspire
bouts of cold murderous shame ruinate
ridges of almonds swimming in desire
delicious knowledge but also fear mind
washed with a certain Merlot love
an imperfect actor thinks she is kind
invigorate sweet moments not to prove
how many layers of onion to me
Oh! learn to read the stains you can see

clinging bits of nature hitch a ride inside
inside I want to fall into the cushions
but cushion that temptation until after a rinse
but before the rinsing waters can cleanse I see you
you wait patiently by the door
the door slides and I lift you to nuzzle at my neck
my neck vibrates with you and the sweat collects your hair
shedding, sticking hair covers me and joins the twigs and grass and leaves
and hairy nature greets the evening softly

the smell of gasoline leads to wamble
you push on into the evening
I let the warm and heavy water
wash the evening into night

Reading

Today’s poetry book for inspiration is The Tradition by Jericho Brown.

vert n. English Forest Law. 1. vegetation bearing green leaves in a forest and capable of serving as a cover for deer. 2. the right to cut such vegetation.n. Heraldry . the tincture, or color, green.adj. Heraldry . of the tincture green: a lion vert.

My poem

Verdant Exile

Verdant exile in idyllic, virid splendor
springing and bursting verdure
an umbrella of viridian and vert
a bucolic shunning
far enough from everywhere to be too far
but not quite far enough
shoots like verdigris change the color of days
from gray to green

Does spring tease on purpose?
enticing the sower with warm kisses
then freezing the seedlings in a blanket of frost
or washing them away in muddy rivers from heavy rains
the viridian umbrella has holes
that let the rain through
the wet exile digs again

Today’s new word:

Write a poem that, like “Dictionary Illustrations,” is inspired by a reference book. Locate a dictionary, thesaurus, or encyclopedia, open it at random, and consider the two pages in front of you to be your inspirational playground for the day.

Take the phrase “Complete (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem.

My poem

Complete SCAMPER

Substitute her flippant, unkind words for what she should have said
Combine this delusion with her talking head’s talking points
Adapt to life’s illusion with ultradian reiteration
Modify and magnify this rosy reality
Put those gnawing thoughts to use for the company
Eliminate any creative impulses not for the institution
Reverse and rearrange memories of the lies told to children

Today’s new word:

taboret (tabouret) n. 1. a low seat without back or arms, for one person; stool. 2. a frame for embroidery. 3. a small, usually portable stand, cabinet, or chest of drawers, as for holding work supplies.

My poem

She pounces, lunges
knocking over the taboret
splaying my tools and supplies
then ducks through the bushes
and yawps at her own surprise
enclosed in a safe cage
of briars and branches
invisible and out of reach

If not free, she would still
pollute my peace
behind panes once within my domain
once friendly, warm and welcoming

Diminutive fanged snarler, aggressor
will I match her need to dominate?
Will they wander over before
or after she bites?

Reading

The Planner Pages

I apologize to all of you who are part of the planner experiment. I didn’t get the pages out for the first time this year, but things came up and I had to let something slide. Since the planner experiment is about creating an informative and motivating daily planner for 2020, I figured being off by a couple days this week would be okay. I’ll post the rest of April’s pages later today with an update on how the experiment is going.

Today’s new word:

Write a poem that engages with another art form – it might be about a friend of yours who paints or sculpts, your high school struggles with learning to play the French horn, or a wonderful painting, film, or piece of music you’ve experienced – anything is in bounds here, so long as it uses the poem to express something about another form of art.

Write a correspondence poem. Maybe write a poem that would fit on a postcard or in a letter. Or write a poem about correspondence school. Or jump into newer forms of correspondence like e-mail or text messaging. Of course, not all correspondence is connected to communicating; sometimes one thing corresponds to another by being similar.

My poem

Correspondence

Crumpled correspondence tops the stack of junk
piling monument to passing days
a mountain from the mole hill
of the ignored

I light the old, unwanted, local rag
delivered, though I asked them not to
It ignites the dry wood of the limbs
from the last wind storm

Smoke sneaks into the living room
and collects halfway down the stairs
where the temperature changes between two worlds
in summer

The flame grows and I throw
the unopened envelopes in
salvific fire cleansing, protecting everyone
from my potential clone

A multiplying identity
participating in false economy
capitalist societies
of the imaginary

Write a poem that, like The Color of Pomegranates and “City That Does Not Sleep,” incorporates wild, surreal images. Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.

For today’s prompt, write a sketch poem. My initial thought is to write a poem that’s like a sketch of a moment or an object. But you can play around with sketchy people or situations. Or just sketch something else together.

My poem

Camouflage in the City on Easter Sunday

mud splattered banana hand outstretched
open to releasing smoke
you are seen
prominently uncamouflaged
against the videocon dish by-stander not helping
clinging to the circles and ovals
once cool metal modern faces of Bert
or that paperclip assistant
no one wanted
now holding you up
and out of place
juxtaposed
definitely not a muddy banana in a jungle
though the animals have attacked
and see you clearly
your gray faces and black disc eyes
your filtered muffled barking holes
and holstered weapon
the animals are already back in their dens
but you are out contrasting
against white-washed walls
and Bert railings and satellite dishes
where is your leaf, your purple bulb
the sweet smell of tropical rain
to wash the blood from the smoke?

Write a poem that “talks.” Write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life.

For today’s prompt, write a dark poem. Cave poems, poems at night, and no electricity poems–these are all appropriate for today’s prompt.

My poem

The Cave Wall

ruddle marks flurry along the cave’s wall
my only message
my only proof of existance
I mark the days, months
at first I doodled to pass the time
flowers, spirals, a cat, a little stick person
but this cough is more urgent
what to say?
not some old quote
someone else’s words
a legacy
meaningful wisdom
what has life taught me
to pass along?
Don’t get stranded
and die in a cave
wouldn’t be helpful to many
nor the next poor soul that sits here
reading my message
I decide
and the ruddle marks the wall
I doodle some spirals
I mark the days

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